


I Just Want Somebody Near Me

by jumpsoap



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Collars, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Mild Kink, World of Ruin, brief reference to possible past promptis, very mild oxygen deprivation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-16 02:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16945239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpsoap/pseuds/jumpsoap
Summary: It was so obviously a joke, he should have just thrown the stupid thing away. But he couldn't shake the feeling of her fingertips brushing his neck, the security he felt when the plastic tabs snapped together.





	I Just Want Somebody Near Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionheart (cruel_oath)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruel_oath/gifts).



> Charlie had some extremely good prompts, and they deserve a lot of gifts, so here's a second fic!
> 
> Thanks Charlie for the prompts and for being all-around awesome, and thanks to the lovely mods of the gift exchange!

He knew she was teasing him, of course.

They were using the few hours of gray daylight to scavenge, rooting through the picked-over shelves of a convenience store somewhere in Duscae. Prompto was staying near the front of the store, gun out, glancing out the windowed storefront every few moments for wild beasts or raiders or a particularly bold and hardy daemon risking the light. Nothing but a stiff breeze shook the spindly trees outside, though.

Aranea had wandered into the back of the store, less concerned or perhaps simply more accustomed to the dangers that could be stalking them. 

“Just a buncha junk,” she called. Boxes toppled to the ground, and Prompto looked back into the shadowy interior to see her spear poking into the upper shelves, knocking inventory down indiscriminately.

Prompto winced at the noise and destruction. It was weird to be travelling in Lucis with only Aranea. He kept half-expecting Ignis to call him back to the car, or Gladio to tell him off for being careless, or Noctis to… well. He shook his head and returned to keeping watch. 

However uncanny it was to be here with Aranea, it was a hundred times better than trying to travel alone. He was sure she had only agreed to team up with him for sheer practicality, and a part of him was dreading the moment they finally arrived in Lestallum and she found her friends. She wouldn’t need his company anymore, then. 

“Huh,” Aranea said from the back. “Come check this out.”

Prompto reluctantly gave up his post by the windows to follow her in, stepping over empty boxes and useless detritus. “What is it?” He asked, afraid of finding something dreadful hidden among the shelves.

He found her looking at a rack of pet-related goods. It was mostly empty, no food or medicine remaining, but she plucked a blue collar from where it hung and snapped off the tag.

“Medium dog,” she said, and held it up to him. “That’s your size, right?” 

He held his breath when she stepped close, her fingers brushing his throat as she slipped the collar around his neck. Sometimes he managed to forget that Aranea was one of the most stunning and strong people he’d ever been in shouting distance of, but then it all came rushing back to him in dizzying, stomach twisting clarity. 

He tore his gaze up from her cleavage to her face, brain catching up to what she was doing so close. “What?”

She tugged on the loop at the base of the collar, smirking at him. “There you go. Now nobody will think you’re a stray if you get lost.” 

Prompto’s face heated up like a Fire Bomb, and he fumbled at the collar around his neck. “Cut it out,” he said, unclipping the thing and shoving it into his pocket.

Aranea laughed and bumped him with her shoulder, breezing past him. “Let’s get out of here, Spot.” 

~

It took them several more days to make it to Lestallum, progress slow and treacherous through the increasingly dark and daemon-infested countryside. When they made it into the crowded streets, narrow and hot and stinking of sweat and garbage, they had to dive in to make it across town.

Aranea grabbed onto the back of his jacket, towing him through the riptide. He let her guide him without looking where they were going, looking into the tense and harried faces of the refugees and residents of Lestallum as they bumped and tripped all around. 

Biggs and Wedge were sharing a cigarette behind the hotel when they found them, their eyes suspicious and hostile in the moment between sighting Prompto and Aranea and recognizing them. 

They greeted Aranea with warmth and gratitude, and even clapped Prompto on the back.

One of them ruffled Prompto’s hair, then laughed when he made a face and went to straighten it. “Alright, mate? We’ve heard a bit about you from Lady A.” 

“Think she might’ve got a little crush,” the other said, winking at him. 

“Shove it up your asses,” Aranea said without malice. 

They began to discuss their plans; Prompto found his attention wandering, running through his own possibilities for the immediate future. Lestallum, Hammerhead, Wiz’s ranch… The continent was growing dark and dense with daemons and predators, and there was so much that needed protecting. 

“Whattaya say, Shortcake? Up for another trip north?” The three of them looked at him expectantly, and he withered under their gazes. They were asking him to come with them?

“No,” he said, eventually. “I’d, um, better stay here. See what I can do for the hunters.”

The men’s faces said they didn’t care either way, but Aranea watched him for another moment, before shrugging and looking away. “Suit yourself,” she said. “But don’t do anything stupid, Prompto.” 

He swallowed. “Yeah. You, too.” 

~

He’d lost the leather bracelet he used to wear all the time, somewhere back in the snow. The collar around his neck wasn’t the same, but it made him feel covered, safe in some similar way. He laid down and fingered its edges, thinking about the way Aranea had put it on him, how she had been so close to him. 

For months now, he hadn’t often been in the mood to take care of himself, but he hung on to the collar with one hand and his cock with the other and focused on the memory and the thought of having her hands on him again. Of Noctis giving him the wrist band. Of laying his head in the lap of a figure that oscillated between the two of them.

He let it all carry him over the edge, cum spurting between his fingers and landing hot on his chest. 

Afterward, he caught his breath and then groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face and smearing cum onto his cheek. He picked up his discarded shirt, already filthy with the last several days’ travel, and wiped himself off, limbs and eyelids heavy. 

He moved to unclip the collar, but didn’t make it that far. He fell asleep with a finger hooked around it. 

~

It felt good, digging into his neck while he slept or tucked under the sleeveless jacket he wore, the empty ring on it clicking against the jacket’s zipper. He would take off the jacket and expose it in front of the mirror when he stayed at a hotel or a caravan, admiring the color against his increasingly pale neck.

It was a habit was careful to hide from any hunter or mercenary he happened to cross paths with as he fought and worked, bouncing around the Lucian countryside. Gods forbid Gladio see him with a dog collar around his neck. He’d rather be caught cuddling a stuffed moogle. 

It was a habit begging to be discovered, though, and in retrospect, he was taking a calculated risk when he didn’t take it off and squirrel it away at the bottom of his bag the moment he saw the message on his phone.

[Aranea] Up near callateins plunge. U still kicking around there? 

Her name on the screen made his stomach flop over and the collar burn around his neck. He’d made the caravan his basecamp while he hunted down daemons and the energy they left behind over the past week or so. Had she come looking for him?

Ignoring the message didn’t make it not true that she was there. They ended up meeting on the battlefield, and he laughed aloud when he saw her descend from the sky and plunge her spear into a swelling Ice Bomb before he could pull the trigger on it. 

His anxiety about seeing her briefly fell away with the rush of fighting back-to-back again. They wove around each other tightly, her lance fast as whipping thread, his gun precise as a needle. 

In the quiet that followed the hissing disintegration of the final Ice Bomb, he felt that familiar urge to fill the silence with talk, but he tried for once in his life to think before he spoke. To buy time, he put on a show of unsummoning his gun and crouching down to bottle the ice energy and scoop it into his bag. 

It was useless, because she’d already seen him at his worst, but he felt such a pressure to act cool around her. He tied the bag and stood, finally looking up her body to meet her gaze. 

She was eyeing him over as well, a smile at the corner of her mouth. She broke the seal first. “All in one piece. You look good.” 

“Not as good as you,” he countered, feeling proud of himself when she grinned. 

She flicked a finger through her hair, posing with her hip jutting out. “Thought I’d hang around here for a couple days. Heard there’s some good money in the hunts.” 

“You got a place to stay?” Prompto asked as they headed back to the outpost.

“From what I hear, you’re holed up in the only good digs for miles.” 

“I could make some room.” He’d spent plenty of time in close quarters with Aranea. This didn’t have to be any different. A hot wind raced through the open plains of darkness, urging them on and drying the sweat on Prompto’s arms. He shifted the bag around on his shoulders and shrugged off his jacket. The night was warm without the chill of the Ice Bombs.

Aranea made a sound as though she was about to say something more, but then she stopped in her tracks. “What’s that?” She asked.

He stopped and looked back at her, saw her gaze fixed on his neck. “What, this?” he asked, forcing himself to grin as he flicked at the collar.

Her mouth shut with a _click_ and she walked past him without responding. He watched her go for a moment before jogging to catch up.

“I was worried about you, you know,” she said, not turning her head.

“Um,” he said, “Sorry?” 

“Your buddies said you haven’t been taking their calls. I came here to check on you, not to…”

“I don’t want anyone checking on me.” They had made it to the caravan, the floodlight above a token defense against the darkness. The empty storefront across the road was dark, its windows reflecting them as elongated, ephemeral parodies.

Aranea turned and looked at him, eyes on the collar again. “Don’t you?” 

He pressed his lips together and looked away, touching the collar but not taking it off. “I don’t want anyone worrying over me. There’s enough to worry about.” 

She stepped close to him, fingers joining his. “Were you wearing this because you missed me?”

“It’s stupid,” he said.

“It’s cute,” she said.

There was a heat in her voice that drew all his attention. She brushed past him to the door of the caravan, and he realized she must have picked the key out of his pocket. He switched off his flashlight and followed her in.

“I came here to check on you,” she said. Neither of them moved to turn the lights on, even as the door swung shut and the light was reduced to what could filter through the rotting blinds. “Not to get into bed with you.” 

He laughed; he couldn’t help himself. 

“You think I’m joking.” 

“You’re always joking,” he said. He rubbed at his wrist, the exposed tattoo there. “Almost always.”

“But not always.” As she spoke, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him close. “What’s so hard to believe?”

“There’s no way,” he said, laughing again, “That a lady like you would want anything to do with a guy like me. Not like that.”

“Prompto,” she said, and he could see the white of her teeth as she grinned at him. He wasn’t laughing anymore. “You’re just my type.” 

Aranea fisted a hand into the collar around his neck and backed him through the caravan until his knees buckled against the bed at the end. 

She leaned in and kissed him, mouth hot and demanding against him, and he felt a year or more of unresolved tension coming to a peak. 

“You want it?” she murmured, still so close he could feel her lips move.

“Please,” he whispered back. 

“On your back” she said, releasing him. He scrambled back on the bed, breathing hard as he listened to her undressing, buckles jingling, leather hitting the hollow floor.

The mattress creaked as she climbed over him, hands running over his clothes. She was right over him, legs spread over his groin. He reached down in a panic, gripping his erection to try to fight back a fast-approaching orgasm. The backs of his fingers brushed thick, damp hair and he shuddered, cum flooding his underpants and shame flooding his chest.

She simply chuckled and continued to crawl up his body, her silhouette filling his view until all he could see was the gleaming thatch of silver hair between her legs. 

“Always knew you were a quick shot,” she said, running a hand through his hair, digging her fingers in firmly. “Can you do anything with that mouth?”

He slid his hands up to her hips and opened his mouth to receive her as she covered his face with the mass of her mons. Her wetness pressed up against him and covered his lips and nose. He worked his tongue deep into her folds. 

Prompto spent some time exploring the heat of her channel before she moved above him, hand still tight in his hair, and he found her clit, hard and slick for him. He found it easy to follow the rhythm of her movements and he poured himself into it, pressing his face up into her, breath hissing through the corners of his mouth. 

He didn’t realize that he was weeping until she released his hair and pulled away from him. Only then did he notice that his face was wet where it had no reason do be, all around his eyes and down into his hair, dampening the sheets.

She put her hands on his face, coaxing him to look at her, and wiped his eyes with her thumbs, only for new tears to spill out. “What are you crying for?”

Prompto took in a shuddering breath, every bit of shame in him fighting against the words he wanted to say. He squeezed his eyes shut and got out, “Am--am I a g-good boy?” 

“Oh, puppy,” Aranea said, hands stroking up to his hair, petting him. “You’re such a good boy. Always such a good boy.” 

He clutched at her thighs, begging her to straddle his face again, and she indulged him, covering his mouth with her hot, soft cunt. Between his own weeping and her drenching wetness, he felt like he was drowning in a slow and sweet and welcome way. He could only gasp in breaths around her, but he held on tight, a silent prayer that she would let him put himself through this for her. 

They found their rhythm again, both of her hands pulling his head against her as she began to make soft, high sounds above him. Drool and fluid flowed down his chin and out of the corners of his mouth but he kept his tongue moving over her, circling and crossing her clit, until she moaned, low and long, and eventually pried him off of her.

She dropped down onto the bed beside him, her body radiating warmth and sweat onto him. 

Prompto didn’t know what to do with his hands now. Aranea’s bare body was pressed to his side, her hard nipple brushing his arm as she caught her breath.

She stretched, pressing against him even more, and then propped herself up on an elbow. “You wanna take care of that?” She tapped a knuckle on his erection, still clothed and throbbingly hard. 

He blushed, and shoved down his pants to take hold of himself, averting his gaze from where he could barely see her watching him. She placed a finger under his chin, however, and brought him back around.

“You look at me when you come.” 

He shook under the pointed blade of her attention, her eyes and hair reflecting just enough light to glimmer in the darkness, the bed rocking and creaking as he jerked himself to completion. 

She kissed him when he came, the taste of her mouth mingling with the other wetness she had covered his face with, and the sound he made against her shuddered through his body almost as powerfully as his orgasm. 

Prompto nearly blacked out in the aftermath, but was aware enough to notice her pulling off his shoes and pants and dragging the blanket over him, getting in and snuggling up beside him. She petted his hair and chest, murmuring that he was a good boy, that he’d done a good job.

“Still don’t like being checked on?” She asked, settling against him, one leg tangled up with his.

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her and holding her close. “I guess I can’t complain if it’s like that.”

“You’re not as alone as you think, you know,” she said against his skin, so quietly she could almost be talking to herself.

With her head on his chest, hair and breath tickling him, he believed that for the first time in a long time.

 


End file.
